Long and slow
by Tez
Summary: Another peek into pure HM shipperdom. Companion to 'One of those kisses'.


Disclaimer: I don't own JAG. I do own a really cute Vera Bradley, but I'm not sure DB would be interested in a trade. Title also courtesy of Dwight; 'One of those kisses' is the companion story.

            I rest my forehead against the cool glass of the window, trying futilely to make myself feel better before I need to be in court. I can't concentrate on anything. My head is pounding and I'm ready to go home and sleep for a week. I can't do that, though; I'm facing off against Harm in court in fifteen minutes. Going up against him is a challenge on good days, but today I think it isn't even going to be any fun for him to beat me. I'm certainly not going to be a challenge. A strong breeze could take me out.

            The door to the break room opens behind me, and I know instinctively that it's Harm. I recognize everything about him, even the sound of his footsteps. A strong hand rests on my shoulder, and I moan involuntarily.

            "Just shoot me, would you?" I ask, and he makes a little noise of sympathy.

            "Come on, Mac. I'm taking you home."

            I sigh, pulling my face away from the glass to look at him.

            "We have to be in court in thirteen minutes."

            "No, we don't," he replies, reaching out to pull my head down to his shoulder. I lean into him willingly. Being sick and miserable isn't enough to keep me from enjoying any physical contact with my partner that I can get.

            "I spoke to Captain Sebring and asked for a continuance. I told him you weren't feeling well. We'll reconvene tomorrow at 0900."

            I spend half a second contemplating chewing him out for acting unilaterally, and then my headache reminds me what the better part of valor is.

            "I appreciate it, Harm," I say, and he gives me a concerned look. 

            "Now I know you're sick," he replies, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading me over to a chair. I don't sit down so much as collapse into it, and he steadies me with growing concern apparent on his face.

            "Mac?" He presses a hand to my forehead, grimacing. "You're burning up. Are you dizzy?"

            "I wasn't until you said something," I moan, closing my eyes as the room starts to spin. I feel him get up, and a moment later I hear the sink running. He presses something cool and damp to my forehead, and I can't restrain a sigh of relief as my headache starts to recede. He places his hand over what I've determined to be the wet dishtowel on my forehead, holding it in place, and slips his thumbs under it to massage my temples. This is heaven.

            "Any better?"

            "Bless you," I reply, and he chuckles. He hasn't let up on his massage, and I think I might fall asleep right here if I'm not careful. The towel is starting to warm up, courtesy of the heat it's leeching out of my face, and after a few minutes he takes it over to the sink and re-wets it. 

            Harm presses the cool towel to my face again, stroking my cheeks with it before resting it on my forehead, and I decide I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life sick if he'd be willing to take care of me like this. The sound of the door opening and closing again catches my attention, but I simply don't care enough to open my eyes and tempt the headache to come back. 

            "Sir," Harm says, sounding like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I hold in another sigh. It must be the admiral. No one else can inspire that particular tone of obedience in Harm. I tune their conversation out as I try to open my eyes and sit up straight, but to my vague surprise I seem to have lost control of my voluntary muscle movement. My eyelids feel like they weigh about six tons apiece, and I decide that if the admiral wants to fire me for not coming to attention, it'll give me more time to sleep whatever this is off.

            "Major?" 

            It's the admiral's voice, soft and very close to my ear. 

            "Mac, can you hear me?"

            He sounds concerned, and I make one more huge effort to open my eyes. It works, but just barely, and the light coming in through my squinting eyes brings my headache back in full force. I can't suppress a whimper as I raise a hand to my head, and Harm returns to his massage as he whispers something to the admiral. I try to tune back in and catch Harm saying something about ordering a continuance. I know that part already. Then the admiral says something about sick leave, and I struggle to join the conversation.

            "I'm all right, sir," I say, wincing when the sound of my own voice doubles the pounding in my head. I'm glad my eyes are clenched shut again, because I can imagine the looks Harm and the admiral are giving each other over my head.

            "Mac," Chegwidden says, resting a hand on the shoulder Harm was touching earlier. "You're on sick leave until further notice. The commander's going to help you get home and keep an eye on you, and if he thinks it's warranted you're going to head over to Bethesda. Is that clear?"

            I risk a nod, groaning when it makes the world spin faster, and I don't need to see the admiral to know he's shaking his head in exasperation. I can hear him leave, and then Harm is whispering to me.

            "Hanging in there, ninja girl?"

            I can't suppress a smile at his nickname for me. "Sleep," I mutter.

            "You got it," he replies. "Once you're feeling well enough to get up and head out to the parking lot, I'll take you to bed. My place or yours?"

            If I were feeling better, I'd rip that double entendre of his to shreds. At this point, however, only one of those meanings is a viable option for me, so I let it go.

            "Mine." I want my own pillows, my own pajamas, and my own comforter. I'm also delighted to recall that I'll have my own Harm; the admiral's pretty much ordered him to baby-sit me today.

            He removes the towel from my face and I consider pouting, but that's not going to get me into bed any faster.

            "Anything I can get for you before we go?"

            I can't think of anything, so I shake my head and he wraps an arm around my waist, preparing to lever me out of my chair as I blink my eyes open again. Suddenly something occurs to me, and I wonder if I'm sick enough to pass it off as delirium.

            "How about one of those kisses?"

            He freezes in place, and I lean my head back to catch his gaze.

            "You know. The nice, long, slow ones."

            I can see a smile dancing in his eyes, but his expression is solemn.

            "Whatever makes you feel better, Mac," he tells me, and then his lips are on mine. I sigh against them, resting my full weight back against the chair as I tangle my hands in his hair. I love this man. 

            The kiss is long and slow and very nice, as promised, but it still ends too soon for my taste. Harm guides me to my feet, and I'm surprised at how far I've degenerated in the fifteen minutes we've been sitting here. I walked in under my own power, but that feels impossible now. Harm's grip on my waist is the only thing keeping me vertical, and I lean heavily on him as we walk toward the door. It's time for me to go to bed.

            "Hey, Harm?"

            "Yeah?" His voice is mellow and warm, and my knees go weaker than they already are.

            "Thanks."

            "Anytime."


End file.
